It seems that I have my best thoughts when I am driving to or home from work. But by the time I get to a PC to log them in, they escape me. I do have a
couple of revelations, though. A couple of good ones, actually.
First of all, I read the last issue of Kabuki. The concept of it is that the entire series of comics have actually been a sort of autobiography. The main character, Kabuki, is using Mack as a ghost writer. Now her story about the Noh is out and she can start living her life. In it, Mack also states, "I'm finishing the last issue right now." When I read that, I realized that it is time. If he continues to write the book, which I doubt, I will continue to read it. But looking back at the entire series (I have read it since the moment it hit the shelves), it all seems complete. It doesn't need more story to keep this character alive. Through extreme introspection and scrutiny, Kabuki has completed this journey and is ready to start her next. No need to document it. It's weird, but I almost saw the words "THE END" come scrolling down the page when I finished the book.
And as I lay there finishing the book, I realized that in the same instance that Kabuki is complete, I too am complete. I immediately thought, "There isn't any real reason to blog about things anymore. I don't need to." There is a certain amount of justification that comes with writing a blog. I open myself up and
allow friends and strangers to judge me. I feel the need to explain myself to people who care, but who perhaps read this more like I was reading about the character, Kabuki. Am I fictional? Is Kabuki really a living person?
I'm not going to deny that I consider Kabuki my friend. Or is it David Mack, whom I've only met in passing? Either way, I have gotten more out of the unspoken conversations with that character than I have ever gotten out of any human interaction. I think that is primarily because with human interaction, I always feel the need to hold myself in check. Whether because of hurting someone else's feeling, or potentially having my own hurt, it's hard to say. Kabuki opens herself up completely to me. I, in return, open myself up to myself. The introspection is on a monumental level. I have written David Mack several times about this, but this one just might make it to him as well. Sort of a farewell and thank you letter.
In my life, there have been times when I have been so out of sorts that no one could reach me. At the MOMA in December, I was staring at a Franz Kline
painting and just became completely overcome with emotion. I'm not even sure what it is about his works, but they always reach me on such a deep level. I was going to post an image of one of his works, but I don't feel the need to justify myself on my feelings. If you want to go look it up, you
can find plenty on Yahoo. This isn't a discussion about art, however.
I was alone when I was looking at the Kline. I started crying. Thomas found me and asked me what was wrong, but I couldn't tell him. Not because I
didn't want to tell him, but because I knew, no matter how many words I tried to use, I couldn't explain it and wouldn't explain it because there was
no way that he would understand.
It hurt me yet empowered me at the same time. I was finally able to relieve myself of all of society's shameful pretensions towards art lovers and become
one with the painting. The only way that I can describe it is how some people react when they listen to, or sing, a particular song. It pulls at the heartstrings and reaches you on a level that is otherworldly. Suzanne once told me that singing is a very emotional experience. Everyone will end up crying sometime during the process because it comes from your soul, if you allow it to (paraphrased, of course) I reached that level with my art at the MOMA.
I allowed the art into my soul. Even looking at Yahoo thumbnails gives me a feeling of hope and sorrow. There are so many conflicting emotions in
Kline. Most will look at it with a descriptive or analytical eye. I allowed myself to judge it and allowed it to judge me in return, which allowed me
to judge myself.
Kabuki works for me in the same way. I need to be alone to truly understand what she is telling me. Or perhaps what I am telling myself. There are times when I realize that I am very raw reading it. I only tried to share this with one other person. It isn't meant as an insult to anyone. I feel that anyone needs to truly sit down and think about what Kabuki, art, life is telling them personally. Not many people have the time or desire to do this.